


Housewarming

by sukekiyo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukekiyo/pseuds/sukekiyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff of this ship, I suppose! I wrote this at 4 am~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housewarming

Birds’ calls would wake the area, forceful yet silent winds would throw about around windowsills by the hold’s high-altitude walls. Skyhold was quiet in the stark morning, blanketed by a soft, untouched frost in the late autumnal season. As the lofty fortress stood, the inhabitants were lazy, sleepy and unresponsive, asleep in their beds, save for the unique few who had minimal tasks to do that slightly bitter, chilly morning. 

A soft murmur was heard about the crisp morning air, among the hold’s waking workers, who wandered about trudging in their slush-covered boots and thick coats. The inquisition had its duties to do later in the day, though the hold itself was just ready to wake up slowly but surely. 

Trevelyan was no stranger to heights in a tower, nor the coldness of it as the season came. The tower was a reminder of her time there, and stood for every experience she stood to recall. 

The wind soaring along the stone walls especially reminded her of the sound of the architecture of the tower. Some days, Trevelyan would wake in a nervous sweat, hiding beneath her sheets at the familiar sight of an enclosure too close to home-- stone walls, dim lighting under a candlelit room, that frail feeling the darkness gave her. The circle reminded her of it all the time.   
It only took some work for her to recall where she was then. 

“Hana,” An eager voice called, whose timber was soft, fluid and appreciative. It sat her mind in a calmer form, a comfort that she sought immediately. A conditioned response, she would turn her head immediately, still in bed underneath layers and layers of wool blanket. 

The bed supporting the mage was larger than her, a cherry-wood frame, red sheets with cream trim. The sun was just barely out, poking beyond the mountain line surrounding skyhold, though the sparse light that succeeded in hitting past the skyline shone through the translucent glass of the room, just barely hitting the bed corner. 

Trevelyan’s favorite place to relax was the bed. Her companions knew it too well. Long after a trek, a daunting mission requiring long hours and weeks from home, the mage went immediately to her room after a long trip, and even after then she still had to work, to keep an image of the inquisition. It was no different today, that the last night she’d been working late, and she’d sleep whenever she had the chance.

“Have you been in here all morning?” The commander inquired, his brow raised to a uneasy expression. Cullen reached over, a gloved hand running through her soft blonde hair, his weight sitting over the bed right beside the mage. “...It’s cold, isn’t it?”

Trevelyan turned in bed, her face pressed against the plush pillow. “It is,” she sighed, her eyes sleepy and face still laggish. “But it’s not that. I’ve just been laying here, thinking about something.” 

 

“About what?”   
“I’m... only just wondering how it would have been if I hadn’t left the circle,” She shuffled in her blankets a bit. “I feel like I’ve been dealt the luckiest hand out of all odds. To leave at all without any consequences on my part.”   
Cullen shrugged, hand still caressing her forehead, fingers running through her hair. 

“It’s true, and I can only say that I’m glad it was you.” Cullen’s cheeks flushed as he smiled, his palm smoothing out the scar on Trevelyan’s cheek. “I’ve made tea for you to wake you up.”

“What kind of tea?”  
“It’s an earthier tea. One to warm you up, spices and all. Just the way you like it,” The commander grabbed the saucer sitting atop the dresser he’d placed there earlier, handing it over to the other. “Perfect for a cold morning.”

Trevelyan smiled humbly, taking the cup, observing as the other shared another cup from the same teapot. “I didn’t take you for a tea person. You didn’t exactly seem to enjoy small things.”

Cullen leaned back against his elbow into the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. “I suppose it was you who introduced me to this sort of thing, I’ve been trying teas.”

The mage felt flattered, gaze lowered at the white cup, observing the soft caramel-colored liquid. Taking a quick sip, she tapped the rim of the saucer quickly in a familiar sense she tasted of it. Earthy, slighty smooth taste, mixed with a hard spice. A taste known to her.

“You took this blend from the circle?”  
“It was easy to track. This blend is common.” 

“We were served this on particular study days,” Trevelyan blinked, her face close to the cup as she inhaled the indulgent hints of cinnamon. “It’s strange, but even if this tea tasted like boiled dirt, I still enjoyed it being one of the few treats of the circle.” The mage laughed to herself.   
“And although this tea was a reminder of what miniscule treasures I had in the circle, I really would just stick to the inquisition and it’s nice, select tea brands.”

“Truly?” Cullen chuckled.  
“Even the strange Orlesian blends.”  
“I’d like to try some more of your collection, Hana.” The commander leaned casually, sipping at his drink with a simple smile. 

And to Trevelyan, the image was rather silly. It didn’t seem at all that the commander was a tea person. To come along and seek out the brand of tea the circle had…

As she’d recall, there wasn’t any ingredient in that area that would allow the tea to be at all “common”. In fact, that tea was specific to the town near the circle exclusively. In a face of realization, Trevelyan surmised a stunned face. Cullen made the effort to really track down that tea for her. A measly weak blend, however insignificant, was worth the trek.   
She sat up in her bed, feet poking out underneath the sheets, catching goosebumps at the cold, sharp air within the windowed room. 

She wafted another scent of the tea from the cup, eyes on her commander. The tea had cooled down, though strong as ever were the notes of cinnamon and wood.


End file.
